


The Fox's Muse

by robinwritesallthethings



Series: NSFW One-Shots [10]
Category: Fifty Shades Freed (2018)
Genre: F/M, Language, Oral Sex, Romance, Self-Insert, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: Boyce Fox is having problems writing a sex scene. His editor can help him, but some hidden feelings might be revealed if he asks.
Relationships: Boyce Fox/Original Female Character(s), Boyce Fox/Robin Ballard (robinwritesallthethings)
Series: NSFW One-Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925743
Kudos: 4





	The Fox's Muse

I pick up my phone as the text chime sounds, smiling when I see the message. It’s from Boyce, as usual. I hardly ever talk to anyone else these days.

_I need help. Are you available?_

I call him back instead of texting. He’s always so worried about interrupting me, but it would be easier if he’d just call.

When he picks up, I tell him exactly that. “It’d be easier if you’d just call, you know,” I inform him teasingly. “Even if I am working, I still have to stop to answer you.”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry.”

I stop him before he can hang up. “Do not hang up on me, Boyce Fox, or I swear I will come over there just to chastise you.”

He laughs warmly, and just like that, the tension releases from his voice. I smile to myself, biting my lip as he asks, “Is that a promise?”

“Maybe. Do you need me to come over?”

“No?” he responds uncertainly, then sighs. “I don’t know.”

“That means yes,” I inform him. “Sort out your thoughts and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, and I can tell he’s smirking.

“Don’t you sass me, Boyce,” I caution playfully. “You know better.”

Now I can hear his full-fledged grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies again, more seriously this time.

“I’m on my way. Just sit tight. I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up before our witty banter can continue. If it does, I know we’ll never actually get off the phone.

I can’t help stopping in the bathroom to check my appearance before I head out, though part of me wonders why I bother. I’ve been Boyce’s brainstorming partner, beta reader, and editor since we met in a creative writing class in college. The class was awful. The only way we’d gotten through it was each other.

Boyce has seen me unshowered, wearing mismatched socks, my hair hopelessly tangled after I slept for only an hour and spent the rest of the night working. I’m sure he doesn’t pay attention to what I look like at all anymore.

He, of course, is always handsome, as men so often are. Completely unfairly, I might add. He takes a nap on the couch and wakes up with a perfect five o’clock shadow and artfully rumpled everything else. Add in his cute glasses, his sweet smile, and his overall air of innocence, and it’s a wonder no woman, or man, has snatched him up.

He’s never dated anyone for as long as we’ve known each other, so I don’t actually know what his preferences are. But they’re definitely not me, or something would have happened by now.

And that’s okay, in spite of my vanity. I’m really far too much for him, and I know that. If he is into women, he deserves someone more deferential and less challenging than me.

Someone less broken, if I’m really being honest.

Besides, our working relationship is fantastic. He even convinced the publisher that took him on, Seattle Independent, to retain me as his editor, and now I’m in talks with them to edit some of their other authors and titles as well. There’s no reason to ruin a good thing.

I find my shoes and throw on one of Boyce’s sweaters. I’m constantly stealing them from him. I give them back. Eventually. Sometimes.

I head out. The weather is chilly, but for once, it’s not raining. I walk every chance that I get, and since Boyce lives only a few blocks away, I skip out onto the sidewalk, tempting fate by not even taking an umbrella with me.

A few minutes later, I’m knocking on Boyce’s door. Another formality I’m not sure why we bother with. I have a key, but I generally only use it when I know he’s working and in the zone or when he’s not here.

He opens the door immediately, so I know he was waiting by it. I smile and raise my eyebrows at him. “Tell me what’s going on,” I order, striding in past him.

“Is that my sweater?” he wonders as I kick off my flats, flop down on his couch, and stretch my legs out.

I grin as he sits, lifting my feet and putting them in his lap. “So what if it is?”

He shakes his head at me and smiles. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m well aware. It’s why you love me.”

His face flickers briefly with a look I’ve never seen before. But it disappears so fast that I can’t get a handle on it, so I dismiss it. I poke his thigh with my foot.

“Come on. Tell me what’s up.”

“Well. Some of the advance reader feedback came in for my book, and I have to change a chapter a little, and I don’t know exactly how to fix it.”

I nod my head at him knowingly. “The sex chapter, right?”

He rolls his eyes at me begrudgingly. “I know, I know. You told me so. I’m just… I’m no good at writing that stuff. And I’m so afraid of being one of those male authors they talk about on Twitter all the time. You know? Her boobs bounced boobily and they were boobs, or whatever.”

I giggle, snorting as he recites the words. “Boyce, you could never be that bad,” I assure him.

“Pretty close,” he grumbles, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just need advice, Robin. They said it was, well… stiff.”

“It should be,” I say blithely. “If they’re gonna do it.”

I catch the pillow he tosses at me, cackling loudly. “You are the worst!” he insists, hardly able to keep from laughing himself.

When we’re done, he puts his glasses back on and shakes his head. “I just need to know what to do. Otherwise they’re going to have somebody write it for me, and I really don’t want that.”

“I know, Boyce,” I say seriously. “You know I would write it for you, right? And you never have to tell anybody. Just don’t forget me when you’re a rich and famous author.”

I wink at him and he laughs again. “I know. But what about when I need to write the next one? I can’t always rely on someone else to do it for me, even you. It’s not fair.”

“No one really writes alone, Boyce,” I remind him. “You know that. We’ve known that since that garbage class we took in college. God, half of the stuff we wrote was written together. And you never would have spelled anything right if it wasn’t for me.”

“I know, I know.”

“And no one’s going to love your novel because of one sexy chapter. The rest of it is so amazing. It’s the characters, the plot, the references, the twist. That’s all the stuff they’re going to remember. Really.”

He nods, staring thoughtfully at my ankles. This is definitely still bothering him, and I know it won’t stop bothering him until we figure it out.

“All right,” I start. “You want my advice?” He glances at me and nods. “Whatever your characters have to do, imagine it’s you and someone you fantasize about. Could be a celebrity or whoever. Just… get yourself in the mood and then, you know, eject your horniness onto the page.”

“That’s your advice? Eject my… horniness… onto the page?”

“Boyce.” I sit up and put my hands on both sides of his face, making him look at me. “You are going to have a really hard time writing a good sex scene if you can’t even say the word horniness, all right?”

He flushes under my hands. “I just don’t have a lot of experience, you know? Not with anything, uh, really good. A few fumbling backseat encounters in high school, some bad party dates in college. I mean, I’m not a virgin or anything, but.”

He trails off. We don’t talk about sex a lot. Not at all, really. But I knew there had to be some kind of hang-up there, considering how handsome he is.

“That’s okay, you know, Boyce,” I tell him. “Not having a lot of experience. Being a virgin. You don’t have to apologize for those things.”

“I know,” he assures me, though I’m not entirely convinced.

I finally shrug. “It shouldn’t matter anyway. You’re a writer. Use that stellar imagination.”

“It feels a little dirty,” he admits softly. “Putting my private fantasies into words like that.”

“Well, no one has to know that’s what they are,” I point out. “If anyone ever asks you about those scenes, just make something up.”

“It’s not that,” he explains. “It’s, well… it’s more about… there’s just… something sacred about…” He shakes his head, trying to stop stammering. “I don’t know if the person I’m thinking about would be okay with it.”

“Well, if it’s, like, Kate Winslet or somebody, I’m pretty sure you don’t have to ask their permission,” I joke. “They’ll never know.”

He shakes his head, slowly lying down on the couch beside me, his head on my shoulder. “It’s not Kate Winslet,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes. “And that’s not even really the problem,” he explains further. “It’s that… my fantasy is sort of about what she would do to me and, well, I have no way to know what that is. My imagination in that case is probably not… accurate.”

“Hm. Okay. I get that.”

I rest my cheek on his head for a moment. “So who is it, Boyce? You gonna tell me? I mean, maybe I could help you figure that part out.”

He smiles. “I bet you could,” he whispers, twining his fingers through mine, his eyes still closed.

“I’ve known her for a while,” he finally begins. “We met in college, in a creative writing class. She’s funny. Hilarious, really. She’s the smartest person I know. She’s great at what she does, and I never want anyone else to be my editor. She’s incredibly pretty, though that’s hardly the most important thing.”

I swallow carefully. Predictably, my brain is already insisting that he must be talking about someone else, even though there is no possible way that he could be. But that’s the broken part of me talking. The part that’s kept me away from him for all these years.

He opens his eyes and gazes up at me. They’re a beautiful, clear green, like the water in a lake. “The problem is that I’m not good enough for her, and I don’t know what to do about that,” he confesses.

I shake my head at him. When I speak, my voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper. “You think you’re not good enough for me, Boyce? Really?”

“Well, obviously,” he says. “You’re vibrant. Dynamic. You don’t care what anyone else thinks of you. I’m the opposite of all of those things.”

“I can’t believe you just said all of that with a straight face, Boyce,” I protest. “I am none of those things, and you know it. You know me better than anybody.”

“I do know you better than anybody,” he agrees, “and that’s how I know that all of those things are true.”

I push him up off of my shoulder. He goes easily and turns so he’s looking at me. “And you, um, want to know what I’d do to you if we…?”

He blushes. “It’s something I think about a lot. But, despite that imagination you think I have, it’s a big blank spot in my head.”

“Are you asking me to show you?” I venture slowly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’d want to?”

I groan and lay back over the arm of the couch for a moment. “We are such idiots, Boyce,” I laugh. “We’re like a bad romance novel. If we had just talked to each other…”

“So you, uh, you like me?” he asks shyly, reaching up and fiddling with his glasses.

I giggle and reach for his face again, cupping one of his cheeks in my hand. “Are you going to make me say it, Boyce?”

“Obviously!” he laughs loudly. “It only took me about a million years to admit this to you. Obviously I want you to say it.”

I smile and nod, reaching for his hand with my free one. “Boyce, I… more than like you,” I admit quietly. “I’ve… loved you, for a long time.”

I furrow my brow worriedly as his eyes widen. “Really, Robin?”

I nod. “Well, yeah. And I was going to tell you, at first. I’m far more insecure than you realize, but you know I try to be honest with myself about my own feelings and deal with whatever’s causing them. But I convinced myself that it would be selfish to distract you when you were working so hard on your career. And I guess I just got comfortable in the excuse. By the time I let myself reconsider, I had about a thousand more. That you would have asked me out by now if you liked me. That I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. That I didn’t want to ruin our professional relationship. That I’m just not…”

His finger comes up and rests on my lips to stop me from talking. “None of that now,” he orders gently. “I love you too.”

We sit in silence for a moment, just staring at each other. Then I slowly get into his lap until I’m straddling his hips. His breathing accelerates and his hands clasp my sides tightly. I reach down, covering his hands with mine and guiding them to my ass.

“Oh!” he gasps, flushing and gazing up at me.

“Gotta do better than my sides if you’re going to get lucky, Boyce,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss him.

His hips lift as he kisses me back. He’s already hard, and I can’t help moaning as I put my arms around his neck and drag my fingers through his thick, dark hair. He smells like the cologne I get him every year for Christmas, something a clerk recommended once that smells amazing on him, and tastes like strong coffee.

His hands start to grope my ass. “I’ve always loved these tight leggings you wear,” he confesses. “Your ass looks fantastic in them.”

I slide my hands down over his sweater and start to undo his belt, then his jeans. He laughs. “Already?” he wonders.

“You’re going to bust through them on your own if I don’t get them off of you,” I point out.

He flushes deeper. “Yeah. Uh, sorry about that,” he apologizes.

I shake my head at him. “I’m not complaining, Boyce,” I assure him, giving him one more kiss before I slide onto the floor on my knees.

As I tug his jeans and underwear about halfway down his thighs, he bites his lip. “What are you, uh, doing?”

I raise my eyebrows at him playfully, very much enjoying watching him shudder as I wrap my hand around his throbbing cock. I stroke him a few times and his head tips back, his breath getting caught in his throat.

He lets out a strangled gasp as I slowly slide my mouth down over him. I make sure to be gentle with him for now. We can get to the more energetic and rough stuff later.

I’m gratified to feel his hands slide into my hair. He doesn’t move my head, just holds on, feeling my movements. Then he slowly tugs until my mouth pops off of him, tipping my head back until I’m gazing up into his eyes.

“What is it?” I ask softly.

He swallows and shakes his head, two bright spots of red standing out on his cheeks. “I just… don’t want it to be like that the first time,” he admits. “Even though it feels really, really good. Amazing. Incredible.”

I laugh and smile. “All right. Why don’t we go to your bedroom?” I suggest. “We can be a little cozier there.”

He nods, then starts to stand up, forgetting that his pants are pulled halfway down. He falls back onto the couch and chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“Will you stop apologizing to me, Boyce?” I admonish him, tugging his pants and underwear off the rest of the way, taking his socks off too. “There you go. Try it now.”

This time, he stands successfully, reaching down to grab my hands and pull me up. When I stand, he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up. I squeak in surprise, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

“I’m not too heavy?” I wonder.

I’m not exactly overweight, but I’m not small either. I know that Boyce works out to blow off steam when he’s not writing, but I’m still surprised that he can carry me.

“Of course not.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re a liar, but I like it,” I argue.

He shakes his head firmly and starts to carry me to his bedroom. “I would never lie to you, Robin,” he says sincerely, setting me down on the edge of his bed. “How, um, how do you want to do this?”

I lean back, extending my legs and putting my feet on his shoulder to encourage him to take my clothes off. He gets the message and reaches out to peel my leggings down, taking my socks with them.

“How do you want to do it, Boyce?” I ask, scooting up in the bed and beckoning for him to join me.

He crawls in beside me, smoothing some of my hair over my ear. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well, why don’t we finish undressing each other and see what happens, all right?”

He smiles. “All right. I’d like that.”

He leans down to kiss me again, his fingers pushing my shirt up. I slide my hands under his sweater as I kiss him back, tracing the lines of his muscles. Slowly, I pull his sweater up and off, being careful of his glasses. Then he removes my shirt, flushing again when he sees my bra.

“All your clothes are gone,” I tease, bending and pressing several kisses to his chest.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re still wearing a few.”

“Well, fix it,” I challenge softly.

He pulls me closer, his hands sliding up my back to unhook my bra. He doesn’t get it on the first try and makes a small, dissatisfied sound against my lips. I giggle. “It’s okay. There are four clasps. Half the time I can’t even get it off on the first try.”

“You’re too nice to me,” he murmurs.

I pull back, watching his brow furrow in concentration as he tries again. He slowly unhooks each clasp and then slides my bra down off my shoulders. I move my arms so he can get it off the rest of the way.

He exhales slowly as he looks down at my bare breasts. Before I can say anything, he bends down and starts to kiss them. I arch my back and bury my hands in his hair, squeezing my thighs together as I feel a rush of wetness between them when he finds my nipple.

His knee slides between my legs and parts them. I slide my thigh over his hip and press myself against him, letting him feel how wet I am through my underwear. “God, Robin,” he mutters, grinding against me eagerly as he lifts my breasts in his big hands, squeezing them as he kisses them all over, his mouth tugging on my nipples one after the other.

I can’t help the little noises of pleasure I’m making as his mouth explores me, and they only seem to urge him on. But after only a few minutes, he gasps and brings his head back up to mine so he can kiss me. “I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he confesses, looking extremely guilty.

“It’s okay, Boyce,” I assure him, kissing him back, laughing as I realize that he hasn’t taken his glasses off and they’re all steamed up. I pluck them off his nose and place them on the nightstand. “How do you want to…?” I ask, trailing off when he starts to laugh too.

“You decide,” he says. “All my blood has left my brain.”

I giggle. “Well, that will be useful for what happens next,” I tease, rolling all the way onto my back and pulling him on top of me. I see the question in his eyes, so I reach down and gently guide him to where he wants to be. “Right here, Boyce.”

He inhales sharply and nods. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says worriedly, looking down at me.

“You won’t.” I lift my legs a little so he starts to slip in, and just as I thought, that gets him going. I move my hands to clasp his shoulders and nod. “Right there, Boyce.”

“All right.”

He moans as he slides all the way in, staying still for just a moment before he starts to move. I hang on, letting him have control, my toes curling as he becomes less tentative and more confident.

“Robin, I…”

He gasps and cuts himself off before he can finish, but I know what he’s trying to say. “It’s okay, Boyce,” I murmur. “I’m with you.”

He moves faster, more insistently now. I squeeze him tightly with my legs and arms, calling out his name excitedly as I start to finish. He calls mine out too, pushing forward one more time before letting himself go.

He slumps on top of me, burying his face in my neck. I smile and hold him gently, stroking his back and his hair.

Finally, he pushes himself up on his arms so he can smile down at me. “That was, uh. Wow. That was amazing,” he admits.

I giggle. “I’ve never seen you this relaxed,” I joke.

“Don’t know if I’ve ever been this relaxed,” he confesses. “I love you, Robin. I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it.”

I shake my head. “We were both overthinking it, Boyce. We’re together now. That’s what matters. I love you too.”

He sighs, rolling onto his back, keeping one arm around me so I stay tucked into his side. “Nap with me a bit?” he requests, yawning.

I nod, yawning myself. “Okay,” I murmur, snuggling up against him, resting my head on his chest and quickly falling asleep.

I wake up to the sound of typing. I smile as I realize that Boyce must have gotten up to work at some point. I roll out of bed, finding my panties and his sweater, then head to his office, which is off the bedroom, to see how it’s going.

The typing stops as I come in. He’s sitting in his chair, wearing just a pair of lounge pants and his glasses. I come up behind him and put my arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “Did the muse find you?”

He groans. “Ugh. I hate that muse bullshit and you know it,” he complains.

I laugh. “Why do you think I asked?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes at me and I stick my tongue out at him playfully. “I finished it, if that’s what you mean,” he replies archly.

I glance over his shoulder and check out the last few lines.

_She’d ceded control to him, and it had been exquisite. Even if this adventure was the death of him, at least he would have had this night. He’d treasure the memory of it forever._

“A little sappy, don’t you think?” I poke him. “Just kidding. I hope that your feelings about what we did aren’t that dire.”

He chuckles. “No, not at all. Though it did occur to me while I was writing this that we, uh, didn’t use any protection.”

I shake my head. “Yes, we did. I’m on birth control. I would have said something if I wasn’t.”

He nods. “Okay. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

“Well, as you so eloquently pointed out, none of your blood was in your brain.”

“Even so, we still have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” he asks seriously.

“Sure.” I shrug. “But it won’t be that hard to figure out, I don’t think. Not that much has to change.”

“I suppose not,” he says thoughtfully.

I run my finger gently over the crease between his prominent black brows. “Stop worrying so much, Boyce. Save all that for your novels.”

Before he can reply, his stomach growls loudly, making us both laugh. “What do you want?” I ask him, kissing his temple.

“Mmm… Greek?” he suggests, making it a question since he doesn’t know what I want.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll order. If you’re done writing for now, why don’t we relax and watch something?”

“Sure,” he agrees. “Oohh. Creature feature marathon?”

“There are many reasons I love you, Boyce Fox, and that is one of them.”

I lean down to kiss him and he grins. “I love you too.”

I straighten up and smile, heading back to the living room for my phone so I can order the food. It may have taken a while to get here, but I’m glad we finally did. All of the pieces are in place, and now we can both have the life we really want with each other.


End file.
